


We Finally Become The Flowers

by lonelymisfit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Depression, Heartache, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelymisfit/pseuds/lonelymisfit
Summary: “And they'd find us in a week,When the buzzards get loud,After the insects have made their claim,After the foxes have known our taste,After the raven has had its say,I'd be home with you.”





	We Finally Become The Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Before proceeding please be advised that there are strong trigger warnings that I have tagged and if any of it makes you uncomfortable then I suggest you do not read. 
> 
> If there is anything that may be upsetting to you that I have not tagged then I want to extend apologies in advance but also please let me know so I can fix it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Loosely based on the song In a Week by Hozier and Karen Cowley.

Ligonier Pennsylvania, population of almost two thousand people.

He got out the bus allowing himself a small smile, the gusty winds blanket his body while the empty streets serve as a shocking reminder that he was a long way from home.

There he stood, hands trembling from the night breeze that beats against his body, eyes gathering water yet he doesn’t want to miss this moment. The moment when he finally takes a look around to spot the brightly coloured magnolia tree in the distance. He inhales a deep breath, no toxic smell from the taxis or the smoke from a stranger’s cigarette in the air, no car horns honking and burly men yelling at pedestrians on the street to get out of the way. No smell of fruity flowers and strangers with dirt smudged on their cheeks. Harry thinks, this place was almost perfect.

 

…

 

It’s been a week. He spends most of his time just staring at the magnolia trees in the park, the direction it sways to the wind and though it stands concrete on the floor he thinks, just with one small interruption and its flowers fall. Such a fragile thing to witness that Harry can particularise with. He told himself multiple times that when he left that place none of the memories would follow him, that none of the things he allowed himself to get attached to would affect him yet here he sat under the pink decaying flower bed, cold wind chilling his bones while silent tears slip out his eyes, thinking about nothing but blue eyes and crinkly smiles.

 

…

 

Sometimes Harry thinks he can still hear him, loud and bright and so full of life. When they had nothing on their minds but the love they had for each other and the simple act of doing and never knowing the consequences for those actions. Smiles as bright as the sun that matched the thousands of blooming flowers in the garden where they frolicked, holding hands and stealing sweet innocent kisses. The breeze was the only voice they heard, never needing to use theirs because action speaks louder than words they've always said. Harry understood that whenever he looked into his lover’s cobalt eyes.

_“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you”_

_“I want to spend forever with you doing exactly this”_

_“I love you more than any other thing can love someone”_

_“Maybe I wouldn’t be so mad at god if he were to take my life right now for I am my happiest lying right next to you”_

Harry caught himself reciting wax poetry in his head. He could write thousands of sonnets just about the colour of the boy’s eyes, he could have written novels just about the boy’s different smiles. But Harry decided no amount of words could ever do justice to the immaculate beauty always laying next to him.

He wasn't much of a praying person but in those few instances he hoped that the man beside him knew. Without the use of words he prayed the boy knew that the sound of Harry’s own heartbeat dances with the rhythm of his chortling and the way he’d cover his hand over his mouth, perhaps to muffle the sound, is what fuels the veins within Harry. 

He allows himself a small smile remembering it, as he sat in his room talking to God (who he hasn’t spoken to in a while) and it feels foreign closing his eyes and asking _Him_ for answers even when Harry knows he was the one that took him away in the first place. However, Harry likes to think that even though it might seem like the most absurd thing he could have thought of he knows there is no better way than talking to someone in his head because there was no other way he could ever utter something even as simple as  _his_  name out loud. Not after everything that has happened.

Harry entertained the idea that things around him were a sign from God and they actually told him the answers he sought. To the rustling leaves on the magnolia trees that shake its branches and let its delicate flowers fall to the floor, to the cold wind that makes every hair in his body come alive -the most he’s felt in so long. It is not exactly words but he’s become rather open to interpretation since he met that boy. A big believer that maybe things happen for a reason. He has to keep telling himself this otherwise he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing what has happened was all his fault. 

 

Sometimes Harry also likes to think that God actually cares and listens to his countless prayers, maybe those people were right and there was someone greater than all of us out there. That someday he would heal the sick and stop the hurt, maybe he would make this place more tolerable and perhaps he’d even convince Harry that it was worth staying here- in a world where nothing but darkness surround him.

 

Yet everyday for a week he’s sat under the same magnolia tree with nothing but the whispers in the cold wind that makes him almost feel human again.

 

 

…

 

“Did you know that “Helianthus” is the scientific name for Sunflower?  _Helia_  for Sun and  _Anthus_  for Flower.” He marveled as he picked the petals off the drying sunflower in his petite hands. Harry had smiled thinking of course this boy would know the scientific name for a sunflower, his entire backyard was covered with all different types of colourful flowers.

“I thought it was Louis” It was probably his very non subtle attempt at flirting with the new boy down the road but the way he bit his lips and cast his pretty head down, soft fringe getting swept into his reddening cheeks Harry would say his attempt was more than worth it.

The boy said nothing after that. He knelt where he was, before Harry came to interrupt his work, continuing to pluck out the stubborn weeds around the peaking sunflower buds.

“Tell me another flower fact?” Harry tried, leaning against the almost broken wooden fence that separated the boy’s yard from the monstrous amount of waste land behind.

The boy had turned his head to catch Harry’s gaze fixated on his face, smile turning up slowly and the corners of his mouth twitching. He blinks, long eyelashes fanning across his rosy cheeks, an ethereal description of something so simple yet so breath taking.

All he can remember that day was the boy’s peculiar laugh and Harry decided from then on that it was his favourite sound to exist.

“You remind me of the Heliconia, Harry Styles.” He had not a clue what the boy was talking about nor what the flower looked like but if this boy, this stunningly beautiful boy, could compare a flower to a stranger he’s just met then he appreciates it.

At first Harry thought that the boy was joking when he drew the comparison of him and the Heliconia flower.  _It isn’t even a real flower_ , Harry thinks looking at the strange images of the plant on Google.

“The Heliconia is also known as Lobster Claws” Harry frowns, maybe the boy meant the plant was similar to his very generously proportioned hands. Then again the boy didn’t even look elsewhere but at a mere glimpse of Harry’s face.

He strolls again opening another link for the plant.

 _ **“Heliconia**_ _, formerly included in the family Musaceae, is now the only genus under Heliconiaceae._ ** _Heliconias_** _are grown for their beautiful, brilliant colorful flowering bracts. Breathtaking and unusual flower heads (bracts) rise from clumps of banana like leaves, sometimes very large or slender_.”

From that moment he thought that this boy was single handedly the most beautiful person he has ever met in his life. Both inside and out. Harry thought this is what it feels like to love someone, to care for someone more than yourself. Harry thinks this is what it’s like to feel love. For all the years he’s been in this town, no one has ever called him beautiful and not just for the sake of it, not just to get something in return. The boy was genuine with his words and although it was not a direct compliment and the blushing boy only ever says so much, Harry couldn’t stop smiling.

He feels his cheeks dampened with his own betrayal, something that cuts deep within his flesh with open wounds that fester in salt. For he has once again let this boy affect him even when he left that dreaded place a week ago.

He sits in this dark room, the wind continues to whisper to him and the boy’s blinding smile is still what he sees even when he shuts his eyes, even when he opens them.

The memories were developing into his own dreams and Harry slowly starts to believe that that was all it ever was; his dreams. Something that only existed in his mind. But his body betrays him because he can still feel the boy’s touch on his skin and the boy’s lingering scent still stuck to Harry’s nose and even the boy’s supple red lips still make Harry’s spark when he touches his own.

The crushing ache in his heart every time Harry sees his face or remembers anything about him. Still the boy remains only a memory, only alive in Harry’s head. There was no other way to see his angelic face again. Not since he moved here about a week ago.

 

 

…

 

The first time Harry mentions it to Louis was when they were sat on his sofa watching some foreign rom-com that Louis promised was worth watching but how can anything be worthy if Harry gets to behold his beauty every second, to watch his face contour when he finds something fascinating, or how his eyebrows draw together when he doesn’t quite understand Harry’s mindless rambling, even how his lips would tremble when Harry touches him.

“You always wear jumpers” Harry had stupidly said making Louis move further away from him on the couch, the famous frown etched on his face. He doesn’t talk and Harry knows he’s overstepped some unspoken boundary.  

“Sorry if I like jumpers Harold” He had brushed off and Harry noticed the way he picked at the hem of those jumpers unaware of the meaning behind it. A simple brain activity to calm the nerves maybe, or maybe it was an instinct thing, something someone do unconsciously, unaware of it being done and Harry always thought the little things that Louis did was endearing and unique just like him.

The way he picked at his jumpers to the way he drew meaningless patterns on Harry’s thigh.  _Maybe they weren’t meaningless after all_ , Harry thinks as he wipes at his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

They continued to watch the movie with the huge gap between them, Harry knows Louis just has his eyes stuck on the television so he doesn’t have to hear Harry speak again.

Harry leaves that night watching as the boy escorts him quietly outside the door with his head cast down as usual, attempting to hide his alluring beauty from the world-from Harry.

“I’m sorry” Harry had whispered taking the boy by surprise and wrapping his arms around his delicate frame. Harry feels the boy against his chest, head slowly easing its way to the crook of his neck, muscles relaxing as Harry tightens his arms.

“It’s okay” Almost above a whisper he had spoken, the words having seeped through Harry’s skin making goosebumps appear.

Harry left that night watching the boy let go of his arms giving him a small but private smile. Slowly he shuts the door leaving Harry still standing outside with a gaping hole in his chest, the size of Louis Tomlinson himself.

 

…

The thing with Harry is that he always fucks up. That is just the way he is- a black hole- by definition, Black holes are the remnants of very massive stars with gravity so strong not even light can escape. Louis of course the light. And though it may seem like some tragically beautiful love story where like the planets need the sun, so does one person to another, a black hole destroys anything that gets in their way and that’s the definition Harry was more relatable to because that is exactly what he did. He took the light away. He took Louis away.

_…_

“When are you going to let me help you with those?” Harry had gestured to the tiny buds that Louis called “Zinnias” on the ground beside him. Dirt smudging his flawless face making him almost look human.

“I’d let you touch my flowers the day I die” And it was such a heart chattering statement to Harry’s ear that he had felt tears prick his eyes.

“Maybe I’d be lucky if people were flowers” Louis had stopped what he was doing only to look at Harry’s face and he had hoped his expression portrayed what he couldn’t say at the time. Louis was still looking at him, almost curiously, eyes shining and smile bright as the afternoon sun.

“I’d like to be a flower” Harry had smiled because finally the boy didn’t sit in silence after he had made a foolish remark, Louis continued to smile watching Harry, eyes crinkling to the sides and teeth pressed against his bottom lip.

“What kind?” The boy contemplates making Harry titter at his adorable tilt of head in deep concentration, the dirt all but dried on his cheekbone, flaking.

“Well not exactly a flower” Harry shakes his head fondly at the boy prompting him to go on with his explanation. “A magnolia tree.” He had said and even though the word was fun to say he understood why Louis had said it, at least he does now. At the time Harry just thought it was the one random flower name Louis came up with, not something he took an awful amount of time thinking about.

 

_“Magnolia blooms release their sweet floral lemony scent for almost half the year. The rich aroma drifts through the heat enchanting southern towns. These trees have been around for millions of years. Magnolia fossils date back to Tertiary period, 100 million years ago. This mean that this tough tree has survived a number of different climate conditions that the Earth has thrown at it, which is why these trees grow fine naturally in various different countries around the world.”_

Harry had cried himself to sleep that night thinking that the magnolia tree was the perfect definition of Louis.

_…_

Searching for places with Magnolia trees was more of the chore than Harry would have liked it. He thought it would be easy finding places with the tree so he can someday see it in real, maybe even take Louis along. His search lasted almost four hours until he finally found the perfect place. 

Ligonier Pennsylvania.

_…_

It was the first time he had actually been further than the boy’s back garden.

He pushed the small gate to the side and saddled up the creaky steps, knocking once at the door.

“I’m sorry Harry, Louis doesn’t want to talk to you.” It was one of the worse sentences anyone has ever told him in his life. (Apart from Rosie in fourth grade who said his hair looked like  _burnt_  ramen noodles.)

 

The woman had offered him tea and biscuits with the same easy smile Louis had.

“I just wanted to tell him I found-“He had gotten choked up, couldn’t say another word to the befuddled woman.

Louis had walked through the door, arms and feet bare. Harry’s breath got stuck in his throat and so did Louis along with the woman. The boy’s first instinct was to pull his hands to his chest, screaming at Harry to get out. He was crying while Harry stood frozen and helpless that he couldn’t do a thing to make this boy stop hurting even though it was all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to make everything go away.

“Please Louis I just want-“

“Go away Harry! I don’t want you here” He had confessed rushing to hold onto his mother, the tears drenching her night gown.

Harry had left and this time he didn’t look back. He knew he wasn’t supposed to see Louis that way, to see him vulnerable and bare, not with all his secrets out in the open, Harry snatching them just with his sight. A thousand questions sit on the tip of his tongue, whether the truth would hurt more than the assumptions. The worst part was now there is no way Harry can picture him without those slashes that marred the boy's sun kissed body but he also knows that there was no way Louis wouldn’t look at him knowing that it was the only thing on Harry's mind.

_…_

_“A kiss._

_If only a kiss could make everything go away._

_My mother used to kiss my scraps when I fell and it would miraculously stop hurting,_

_She would kiss me when I cried and I would remember nothing but her soft press of lips on my forehead._

_Maybe she was right._

_Or maybe she wasn’t._

_Maybe just for a moment a kiss can make us forget and if it does then I won’t ever stop kissing you._

_I want to forget everything but kissing you._

_To make you forget everything but kissing me._

_Allow me to kiss you, even just this once_

_Even just to make you forget for some time._

_-Harry.”_

_..._

 

It was raining that day. Harry was sitting on the same bench for almost three days waiting for him to show up.

He thinks why he loves the rain so much, why so many people like laughing and talking and playing in the rain. It is because no one ever saw. The tears that trickle down their cheeks are washed away with the thousands of tiny droplets of the rain. No one knew if he cried, not even Louis. Harry looked up and saw him standing a few feet away also in the pouring rain. Maybe also crying himself.

Harry stood up breathlessly, the warm feeling rolling down his cheek was the only indication that he was still crying but for an entirely different reason now. Louis showed up. He got the tiny piece of crumpled paper Harry slipped under one of his flower beds and he came. He came to forget.

They stood opposite each other, Louis’ lips trembling and chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Kiss me” Louis had requested being inches away from Harry’s face. He even rose to his toes barely reaching Harry’s chin, warm breath fanning across his neck.

Harry held him on, caressed his face, and savoured the warm feeling of this beautiful boy in his arms. His eyes traveled over the many small scratches and bumps on his face, memorising every detail, feeling every emotion.

He slowly moved in, pressing his lips gently against Louis’. Like waves overlapping and crashing into each other, breaking apart only at the shores and becoming nothing but a line of calm water once more, their lips caress each other moving at their own individual pace.

Louis more careful while Harry too excited. Harry has to keep telling himself that this is to make Louis forget everything in his life and though this boy was the only thing he can think about there isn’t a thing he could forget. All Harry did was think of everything. 

Holding hands while they walk down the street, watching Louis’ eyes light up when he catches Harry staring, running for shelter when the rain starts pouring and Louis doesn’t want to catch a cold so he pulls Harry along a side building where they’re both pressed up against each other trying to avoid the rain. Seeing Louis smile because Harry told him how much he loves him, or when he starts crying because Harry told him he wants to move in together, maybe when he holds onto his mouth in shock when Harry finally produces the gold band from his pocket that he took months to buy or even when Louis kisses him just because.

If only it were that easy.

The boy pulls back and reality catches up on both of them again. The rain had subsided and the look on Louis’ face was indication enough that his surroundings faded back in and his memory became clearer once more. He remembers. Reality all but comes crashing back down on him. He's still Louis but he's got his demons and Harry knows there is nothing he could do. 

“If only we were flowers” He had whispered to Harry and left.  _If only_ , Harry thinks.

 

_…_

On occasion Harry would go to the only place he knows sells food at this hour. He sits in the same corner booth with a lone cup of black coffee in front him, the perfect view of the magnolia tree outside.

“Can I get you anything else sugar? We have a soup special today, it’s not so bad” Sue, her name tag reads relates to him and with a brief shake of his head the woman vanishes and he’s left with his silence once more.

There was a time when he didn’t mind the silence, it was almost peaceful but now it is just a pause, an insufferable moment when his mind would drift to places he no longer was a part of, to people he no longer knew.

It was inevitable when he looked out and swore he saw him again. Staring back at him with those big bright blue eyes, with trembling lips and a hopeful look on his face that maybe Harry would finally listen. That Harry would finally understand why he did it. Why he left. 

Maybe then he could stop running away from his past because suppressing it only affects him now and eventually it would hinder in the future. That boy was part of his life whether he wanted to forget or remember, to pretend or grasp the truth by the neck and accept this fact. The boy was no longer his.

_…_

“We should get back” Louis had spoken close to his ear one day. The rustling of the bushes was the only indication to Harry that they were still lying in Louis’ backyard.

Towering weeds covering most of their bodies, tiny insects clawing at their skin, while both their hands were intertwined together. The most peaceful he’s ever felt.

“I never want to leave” Harry had whispered back finally opening his eyes to look up at the blue sky which paled in comparison to the boy’s eyes.

Louis had looked at him for a long while saying nothing but keeping a small smile on his face. Harry knew in that moment the boy needed to know how he felt.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me” Louis had said after the silence and it took every being in Harry to not squeal to the sky. He knew the boy wouldn’t appreciate his enthusiasm, maybe it would break the little barrier Harry has managed to create just for the two of them, maybe it would create a wall between them, maybe the boy would go back to being quiet and hidden from the world. Harry never wants him to hide. 

“I love you Louis” He caressed the boy’s hand bringing it to his lips to leave a lingering kiss watching as the boy’s eyelashes flutter and his beautiful smile grow. He didn’t say it back but Harry knew well enough that Louis showed his affection better than words conveyed.

 

_…_

The stupid television in his shitty apartment is broken. There is nothing left to do in this town but sulk, it’s almost like he never left. It’s just like home.

He feels his phone ring for the twentieth time that night. Probably his family trying to figure out where he went.

_It’s only been a week, why are they so worried?_

He thinks maybe he gets it, why people say that _you can’t miss somebody if you’re not away from them._

Frustrated he tugs at his hair. He’s had enough of this life, enough of this heart ache, enough of this fucking boy that won’t ever leave him even though he has, enough of always feeling like a part of him was missing and there is no way to ever find it, enough of being weak and still so in love.

He looks up at the ceiling chanting to somebody, anybody to make it stop.

 

_…_

“Excuse me Sir you dropped this” The little girl hands him a small crumpled paper. He chuckles bitterly tucking it into his jacket pocket and walking off. Even when he tries to get rid of the memories they follow him.

When he’s in his apartment again he shakenly produces the paper and slowly unravels the picture of his beautiful boy.

He remembers taking it, sun was about to set, the light just enough to catch the glow on his face, Harry held the camera before the boy can protest and snapped the picture.

He had said how hideous he looked with dirt smudged all over his white shirt and face, tattered jeans and sweaty chest, Harry had smiled and whispered under his breath how prefect he thought Louis looked regardless.

He did that thing with his nose bending to pick up a handful of dirt only to throw it at Harry. The boy seemed amused, smiling until the ends of his eyes crinkle-the happiest Harry has ever seen him- running off so Harry had no choice but to chase after him.

Tumbling to the drying grass taking poor Louis down with him, laughing as loud as they possibly could, rolling and touching and feeling each other in that moment.

Harry had told him again.

“I love you” The boy only bit at his lips pressing his forehead against Harry’s chest. It was more than enough.

 

_…_

He is woken by the inconsistent buzzing phone on his nightstand. It’s his sister. He knows he should let it ring, she doesn’t need to know where he is and he doesn’t want her to worry yet he still grabs the phone and presses accept.

“Harry? Are you there? Please just tell me you’re alright” She’s crying which makes Harry clench his jaw trying to not let this conversation affect him but to finally hear a familiar voice after this long was refreshing yet it still burned with the reminder of  _him_.

“Harry please come home” She continues, “I know it’s hard but-“she trails off. Harry would not allow her to talk about him out loud.

“I’m fine” He finally says about to end the call.

“Harry it’s been six months” His breath hitched thinking that wasn’t right. “I haven’t heard from you in six months, not since Lo-“

“Don’t” He hissed at her with pitiful tears streaming down his face helplessly.

“You have to face it someday Harry. You can’t just ignore what happened.” He closes his eyes feeling his throat close in on him, the walls to his apartment seem closer to his body and he’s all too big to be feeling so small.

“I said I’m fine” he hangs up throwing the phone hard against the wall hearing it crash and fall to the ground in tiny pieces.

He wasn’t gone for that long, it’s only been a week. The memories still fresh in his head, the grass green and the magnolia tree still in bloom. How can it be this long since he’s been without Louis?

_…_

_“_ You make feel alive” On the dusty wooden porch of his house Louis had whispered those words to Harry taking his breath away. “I wish I could what you deserve.” He was crying, clawing at Harry’s t shirt, balling his fist and hiding his face so Harry wouldn’t see his tears.

“This is enough my darling, you're enough.” And it was the truth. If only the boy believed that.

“I don’t deserve someone like you” it had hit deep in Harry’s gut that this boy would think like that. When he was single handedly the best thing to ever happen in Harry’s life.

 “It’s not up to you to decide that” it had made the boy smile, drying tears shining in his eyes, cheeks pink and nose twitching.

“I love you” Louis had bravely said that day for the first time. Harry swallowed feeling his hands shake against the boy’s clasped ones.

“And I love you” Harry framed the boy’s face with his hands “I love you so much” gently closing in to place a semi wet kiss to his lips.

That night for the first time Louis had invited him into his room.

Bare chested and lying on his small bed with the floral print sheets, Harry’s heart hammered against his chest when Louis emerged from the bathroom, nothing but his boxers on. For the first time Harry had the opportunity to marvel at this beautiful man in front him. Louis had trusted him enough to bare all, to show him his scars, deep and fading some angry and red. He remembered not asking, never asking but showing, kissing- every inch of the boy’s body repeating the words loud enough so he hears how Harry felt about him.

“You’re so beautiful” He had writhe beneath Harry almost like he didn’t believe the words. Harry made sure that night the boy understood his beauty and his worth to him. When the night turned to morning and the sunlight casts its rays on the boy's face making him possibly glow, Harry was almost sure it was all a dream. 

To wake up in the arms of the most beautiful boy and his soft snores and warm breath against Harry’s face was the most heart -warming thing he had felt.

To watch this man try to hide from the sun hitting his pretty face and the way his nose would turn up in irritation.

Harry had smiled bending to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Beautiful” the boy groaned twisting about in Harry’s arm but a bright smile present on his face.

“Stop staring” he finally spoke, deep rasp to his normal airy voice.

“I can’t help it” Harry placed another kiss to the side of his face right under his jawline. The boy’s smile grew. Finally cracking open an eye so Harry can see the gorgeous azure turn almost grey.

It was probably the last time he got to look into those eyes that way.

 

_…_

 

Its winter, the wind is cold, the leaves on the trees are gone, and the quiet echoes of voices fill the air, the once bright laughter of children playing in the park everyday now gone.

He still sits under this tree, its sweet scent still linger just as the thin layer of snow cover its decaying flowers. Hoping. 

Maybe one day a voice would talk back when he asks the simple question of  _why?_  And maybe one day he would understand. He could finally be at ease knowing why it had to end.

 

 

_…_

It’s been a week since he’s been away from home. This place looks different as much as it feels different.

His mother sees him first, she’s crying, refusing to let him go from her arms. His sister is shouting something back at him but he doesn’t even hear for it feels like he’s underwater, voices muddled and unclear yet it is peaceful down here.

He sees the white picket fence next. It looks the same, the tiny gate pushed to the side with a giant pad lock on the front door.

He was foolish to think coming back here would change anything.

The earth still moves, time it doesn’t stop and everyone around him continue on with their lives while he’s stuck in motion, the picture of Louis waving at him from the porch still in his head. It plays like a dirty record on repeat. Harry still remembers his smile and his teal jumper smudged with dirt, how it was at least two sizes too big for him, the sleeves covering most of his fingers.

Harry remembers the phone call that night and he remembers feeling and doing absolutely nothing. It was one of those rare moments when he felt like he was paralyzed. People often told stories about it, how sometimes they get a rush of adrenaline, sometimes they feel a lot of excruciating pain and sometimes everything just stops. That is what he felt like. Like all of this was a bad dream and he would wake up soon and everything would be alright. Except his eyes were open and the woman on the phone, her words were real, her shaky voice laced with tears was real, when she kept repeating the same tragic words to him, _Something’s wrong with Louis_ , when she begged Harry to come but he just couldn't move, that was real too. 

Harry ran. It’s why he’s been to Ligonier Pennsylvania. A place where none of the memories exist. A place where the boy was nothing but the image of a magnolia tree, a place where Harry can believe that he was still alive. 

He shakes the memory from his head staring at his mother on the dinner table. Life goes on.

That evening he goes to the boy’s backyard.

The flowers are gone, most dried out and fallen to the floor while others struggled with a bit of colour, a bit of life still left in them.

Harry cups his hand into the small barrel to the side with water and douses the plants hoping it would help them come back to vibrancy much like he’d want other things in his life.

He takes a deep breath and lays down on the muddy floor.

It’s the most he’s felt at peace, like he doesn’t have to feel, or think or do. He crushes the petal in his hand as tears slip out from his closed eyes.  _This is just like sleeping_  he tells himself, trying his best to remember the boy and his laugh, to remember his scent; anything really.

Bit by bit he feels lesser of himself but so much closer to  _him_. It is as if Harry can finally touch him again, to see his bright blue eyes stare back at him, to see his face light up in that electric smile.

Harry doesn’t hear the rustling weeds anymore, he doesn’t hear himself breathing, he doesn’t hear anything.

Silence. And then…

A tiny brush over his knuckles. It makes him smile but  he doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t have to. He knows he’s finally with Louis.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://l0nelymisfit.tumblr.com)


End file.
